


All in the Cards

by TheTricksterStoleMyShoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caring Gabriel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Sam, I'm Sorry Sam, M/M, One Shot, Tarot Cards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7715707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTricksterStoleMyShoe/pseuds/TheTricksterStoleMyShoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>**AU Post Season 7 finale -- Everything is the same, Dean and Cas are gone, but Sam and Gabriel are actually looking for them**</p><p>Sam has not taken the loss of his brother well.<br/>Gabriel decides that tarot cards are the answer.</p><p>This got angsty and sad. I'm sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All in the Cards

**Author's Note:**

> The interpretations of the tarot card meanings are the ones that my grandmother taught me. I don't know where she learned from, but I've always used her interpretations because they always resonated with me. Also, if you're interested, Gabriel is using an original Rider-Waite Tarot deck.

“Tarot cards?” Sam can’t keep the note of tired disbelief from his voice, “Seriously, Gabriel?”

Sam is tired. And lost. He’s completely lost. Dean and Cas are gone, Kevin has been taken by Crowley and not even Gabriel can see where. He has nightmares every night, wakes up sweating and shaking in Gabriel’s arms and it takes a good hour of reassurance before he can come back to himself. He dreams of Dean, lost and alone. He dreams that Dean is calling out for him, groping in the dark, eyes gouged out and fingers dripping blood. Sam can never quite reach him, can never get to him. Every night he loses Dean again, and he can’t stand it. Sometimes Castiel makes an appearance, sometimes it’s Lucifer. But it always comes back to the same thing.

Dean is gone.

Now, he’s sitting in some shitty motel room, exhausted down to his bones because he hasn’t slept properly for days but he can’t stop working, can’t stop searching for Dean. Gabriel is humouring him, letting him chase down useless leads, even though he knows it won’t come to anything. Sam knows it too, but he can’t stop trying. He can’t just give up on his brother, not after everything.

He just wants to take a shower, do some more research and then go to bed, but Gabriel seems to have other plans. The archangel is sat cross-legged on the bed, a pack of tarot cards spread out before him. He’s fixing Sam with his most intense stare, the kind that holds Sam in place and makes him lose himself in the amber irises. Gabriel pats the bed and Sam folds his long limbs, grudgingly taking his place opposite the angel.

“Yes, Sam. Tarot cards.”

For once, the archangel seems serious.

“Gabriel. . . I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you know as well as I do that these things don’t do anything,” he gestures at the cards, “They don’t tell the future. Not even with you doing the interpreting. They aren’t going to help us at all.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong, kiddo,” says Gabriel cheerfully, gathering the pack in his hands and separating out some cards, “I think we’ll just go with the major arcana for now. Just do a simple spread.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, forgetting his exhaustion for a moment to scoff, “Since when are you such an expert?”

Gabriel shuffles his selection of cards, his nimble fingers making neat work of the task, “Hello? Pagan god for thousands of years? I picked up a thing or two.”

“I still don’t understand how this will help us.”

“Help _you_ , Sammy. This will help _you_ ,” Gabriel is suddenly serious again, “Don’t question it, just trust me.”

Sam is about to object, to tell Gabriel that he’s tired and he would like to just take a shower and collapse into bed, but there’s something in the archangel’s eyes that makes him stop. It’s a flash of concern and it’s so perfect and genuine that Sam can’t possibly reject it. He does trust Gabriel, trusts him with his life. Besides, Gabriel has been humouring Sam’s pointless search. Now Sam can do the same.

Gabriel hums lightly under his breath as he deals out three cards, face down, and sets the rest to the side, “I thought we’d do a three card spread.” He points at the leftmost card, “Past.” The center card, “Present.” The rightmost card, “Future.”

“Of what?”

“You,” Gabriel hovers his hand over the card on the left, “Your past, your present, your future.”

Sam feels himself deflating. He can’t do this. He can’t just play pretend with Gabriel and act like everything is okay. His voice comes out a little more harshly than he expected, “Yeah, well, what do they know? They’re _cards_ , Gabriel, just _cards_. They aren’t special, they aren’t magic, they’re just drawings that fortune tellers use to fool people into thinking they can tell the future.”

“Sam.” Gabriel’s voice is a warning. It’s a gentle one- the archangel has learned a lot about patience since joining up with the Winchesters and Cas- but it’s hard enough to tell Sam that he should just stop.

But Sam can’t. He’s had enough of people manipulating him, “No, Gabriel. I know how these things work, okay? Sure, the card means something, but the fortune teller just spins it so it’s applicable to the person being read. Anything can be moulded into meaning something different, if you’re clever enough. It’s just bullcrap. They just tell people what they want to hear. There’s nothing new, nothing valuable from any of it. It’s just a way to exploit people and rehash their problems.”

“Sam.” Gabriel sighs. He looks tired, just for a second, “That’s not the point. I know all of that. You’re right- these cards won’t give us any new information or reveal any big mysteries.”

“Then what’s the point?” Sam is about ready to just get up and go take his shower.

Gabriel puts a hand over Sam’s, “It’s a way to think about stuff you’d rather not think about.” Sam stiffens, but Gabriel carries on, “You guide this whole thing, Sam. You tell me what you see in your past, what you see in your present and what you see in your future. Maybe it won’t help. But maybe it will. You have to give yourself this chance to see things clearly.” Gabriel’s amber eyes are on Sam’s again, a gentle, coaxing gaze, “Please, Sam. Try it.”

Sam still doesn’t get it, but he can never say ‘no’ when Gabriel looks at him like that, so he nods. Gabriel smiles widely, his serious face gone, and turns over the first card. Sam looks. It’s an old man, robed and crowned, sat upon a grey throne decorated with stone ram’s heads. The words at the bottom of the card read, “The Emperor.”

Gabriel traces a finger over the card and says, “The Emperor is often seen as a father figure, the one who teaches the Fool. He’s a stable force, a source of law and order in a chaotic world, an authority figure. Here, I’d say he means family.”

Sam swallows. He knows what Gabriel wants him to do. He stalls, “This is the past, right?”

Gabriel nods, “What do you think it means?”

 _It’s a card. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a stupid piece of card with an old guy drawn on it._ That’s not what he says, “Well, family and stability? Those don’t really mix for us. Guess that means your cards were wrong.”

Gabriel looks at him patiently, “They can’t be wrong, Sam, because it’s not about the cards. It’s what you see in them. Try.”

There’s something disarming in Gabriel’s eyes, a promise of acceptance and trust that pierces Sam to his very soul. A large part of him wants to do this, to just let all the dark, rotten feelings that have been swarming in him pour out in one big wave. He takes another glance at the card and gives in, “Okay. Then my past was family.” Gabriel nods at him encouragingly, so Sam carries on, “Dean and Cas and Kevin and us. Bobby too. My life never had much structure, but what I did have came from them. For once, my life had some kind of order and they were the frame of it and now-” He swallows hard, feeling his voice crack, “Dean was my _brother_. He was always there, even when we fought, we were brothers. He was always there. And now. . .” He can feel tears gathering, threatening to spill, “Everything’s gone, Gabriel. And I don’t know how. . .”

Then Gabriel’s there. Sam doesn’t remember him moving, but it doesn’t matter because he’s there, wrapping Sam in his arms and holding him safe, letting Sam bury his face in his shoulder and shake because it’s hit him all over again. Everyone is gone. Gabriel is talking softly into his ear, gentle nonsense words that soothe Sam to his very soul.

After a while, Gabriel loosens his hold on Sam and the hunter sits up, blinking. Gabriel points to the card, his voice gentle, but firm, “You see? Listen. I know you, Sam, and I know you bottle things up, worse than Dean sometimes. You have to see that it’s okay to feel things. You’re right, they were part of the basic structure of your life and you’ve lost so much, so quickly. Don’t you think that means it’s okay to be a little bit _not okay?”_

Sam leans into Gabriel, resting his head on the archangel’s shoulder. His head feels heavy and tired, but everything else feels a little lighter. He stares at the card, his eyes settling on the pointed, armour-covered feet poking out from under the robe. After a while, he points at the second card and says, his voice rough from weeping, “The next one?”

Gabriel nods and reaches around Sam to turn the middle card over, “This is the present.”

The text at the bottom of the card reads, ‘The Hanged Man’ and Sam immediately recoils a little. The card shows a man hung upside-down from a tree by his ankle. There’s a yellow halo around a serene face and dark eyes that Sam can’t help but stare at. He knows they’re just pictures, that they don’t mean anything, but he still feels a shiver run up his spine.

Gabriel is stroking a hand comfortingly up and down Sam’s arm, “This is not a bad card, Sam. The man is hanging there for a reason- to seek enlightenment. The essence of this card is sacrifice. Giving something up to get something else. In this case, comfort for greater knowledge. Or a head rush. Depends on how literally you take it,” Gabriel shrugs and then becomes serious again, “In a reading, this often means that you need to view a situation differently, from a different perspective.” He hesitates before adding, quietly, “It can also mean that you need to let go of something in order to move on.”

Sam interlocks his fingers with Gabriel, “Dean and Cas gave their lives to save the world from Leviathans. That’s. . . That’s sacrifice. There was. . . A purpose,” He doesn’t know why that makes him feel better, but it does. His brother is gone for a reason, a real reason, and that means that even if it wasn’t worth it to Sam, will never be totally worth it, it was worth _something._ He can understand that, the balance of sacrifice. He knows, out of all people, Sam knows, everything has a cost. And one man and one angel for the entire human race? For millions of people? Even if he doesn’t feel it in his heart, his mind knows that it’s nothing.

Gabriel is still running his free hand up and down Sam’s arm, “And what about you, Sam?”

Sam turns his head to look at Gabriel and says flatly, “We can’t get them back.”

Gabriel looks down, “I don’t know, Sam. They’re most likely in Purgatory, and even if we could get in, I don’t know that we should. There’s a whole lot of big bad monsters in there that we could let out.”

Sam takes a moment to digest this, then looks back at the card and says brokenly, “I have to stop looking, don’t I?”

Gabriel shifts and puts a hand under Sam’s chin, “No. We’ll never stop looking, neither of us. But yes, you have to stop running yourself into the ground trying to do something impossible.”

Sam puts his head to Gabriel’s shoulder again and breathes, “I’m sorry.”

Gabriel just shakes his head, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Samsquatch.” The nickname is affectionate and it makes Sam’s throat close up.

“I can’t let him go.” The words are barely audible, a cracked whisper that only just makes it past Sam’s lips.

Gabriel pulls him close, “It’s not about that, Sam, it’s not about that. He’s always gonna be a part of you. You don’t have to let go of his memory, of his influence on you. All you need to do is accept that he’s gone. Then you can move on.”

Sam swallows hard and takes a deep shuddering breath. He reaches out to the third card, and at Gabriel’s encouraging nod, he turns it over. The words at the bottom read: ‘Wheel of Fortune’ and the card pictures a wheel covered in strange symbols with a blue sphinx perched on top of it. There’s a red dog-creature and a yellow snake, plus golden winged creatures arranged on clouds around the wheel.

“This one is the future, Sam,” says Gabriel, “This card represents the turning of the world and the cycle of dark and light. In a reading it usually means the changing of a bad time to a good time, or vice versa.” Gabriel’s voice gets quieter, “For me it always meant hope.”

“Hope that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel,” says Sam softly.

Gabriel nods.

Sam twists so that he’s looking right into Gabriel’s eyes. He lets himself get lost for a moment in the perfect golden wisdom in them, the dancing glint of light and mischief that never quite leaves and the steadiness in the way the archangel is holding his gaze. And suddenly it's like a veil has been lifted. There _is_ light at the end of his tunnel, and Sam is staring right at it. He feels lighter than he has in days. Oh, it’s going to be hard, God knows it’s going to be hard. But Sam knows he can do it. He knows that he can keep going, keep dragging himself along, because he’s got something to live for that’s more than himself. He’s got Gabriel.

He’s going to miss Dean like hell, like a part of his own body has gone. His life is going to feel so bare, so empty without his brother. He’ll keep waiting for Castiel to appear beside them with a flutter of feathers. He’ll keep expecting Bobby to call with a case.

But he isn’t alone.

He has Gabriel. His life is missing the foundations, the framework that he lived on for so long, but it can be rebuilt. Sam knows that Gabriel will help him, will build him back up brick by brick if he has to. There is a new life for Sam, a life worth wading through all the hard times and shit to get to.

It’s a life where Dean is gone, but that doesn’t mean he’s not there, not really. Gabriel’s right. Dean will never leave Sam. He’ll be at Sam’s shoulder every time he watches the wrestling, every time he bites into one of Dean’s favourite greasy burgers, every time Sam drives the Impala. His voice will echo reassuring words in every tight spot, make bad jokes at every opportunity, and Sam won’t be able to listen to Dean’s music for the sound of Dean singing badly and loudly over it.

Sam realises that tears are slipping down his cheeks. He presses his forehead to Gabriel’s gently, his hands reaching up to tangle in Gabriel’s hair, “Thank you.”

The archangel, _his_ archangel, wraps strong arms around Sam and holds him. He says nothing, but the silence means more than a thousand words for Sam. It’s trust and connection and love and hope, all bundled up into the version of the archangel that no-one but Sam gets to see.

Sam’s voice is quiet, but it’s strong, “I love you.”

The words are a promise, to Gabriel, to himself. They’re a promise that he will carry on, that he will keep going to reach the life that awaits him. They’re a promise that he will accept that Dean and Cas are gone, a promise that he will make a place for them in his heart. They’re a promise that Sam will not give up.

They’re a promise that Sam intends to keep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed :D 
> 
> Also, I take fic requests- you can comment here or there's more info on how to contact me on my profile.


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